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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26556397">A Copper Bouquet Blooming</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_unassuming_username/pseuds/an_unassuming_username'>an_unassuming_username</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Shoujo Kakumei Utena | Revolutionary Girl Utena</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood Drinking, Bubble Bath, F/F, Luxury, Magic, Seduction, Slow Burn, Swordfighting, Vampire Bites, Vampire Family</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 09:00:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>3,549</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26556397</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/an_unassuming_username/pseuds/an_unassuming_username</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Utena intends to repay her debt to Dios, the lord who saved her life as a child, but arrives at his castle to find him supposedly dead and the grounds haunted by undead aristocrats. Entranced by the woman in the high tower he's left behind, Utena is lured into a world of decadent seduction when the castle's new keepers offer her a deal she can't refuse.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Himemiya Anthy/Tenjou Utena</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Shoujo Kakumei Utena</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Beyond the Doors of the Night I</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Long ago, in a village beyond the reach of time, there was young man beloved by his sister. He was a prince in her eyes, so chivalrous and pure that she would deign to give him all that she had to give -- especially her boundless magic -- so that he may be happy.</p><p>This, of course, was a terrible mistake.</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>✟</p>
</div><p>A cold and unyielding mountain range looms in the distance. The cold slices through the darkness in bursts of ice that are only beginning to grow heavy. Far atop the mountain that Utena struggles to scale, snow swirls softly around a great castle's spires. Utena gazes up to it and pulls the high collar of her military rain coat close to her cheek. The crest of her ring gleams in the storm with the wet shine of fresh blood. </p><p>She knows the lord she aches to see is dead. She still has a promise to keep.</p><p>Up she treads over frosty mud and over the well-worn dirt paths stomped flat by peasant traffic that diverge like tree branches until one cobblestone path is left to lead her towards the great, massive keep that towers in the darkness like a second mountain range. Though Utena has traveled for eight days already, there is still a speck of strength left in her thighs that she knows must be spent. She heaves her heavy body forward and finally, nearly collapses at the wrought iron gates. The storm has become a solid sheet of ice grating against her exposed skin. She grits her teeth and wills her stiff fingers to unfurl from the fists she formed. When she touches the metal of the gate, it's such a contrast to her skin that it feels like it's burning.</p><p>The villagers would only tell Utena that the new occupants didn't accept visitors in the daylight; a strange fact that was made no clearer when she asked when they would accept visitors. There is no time to wait for that answer. There are no vacancies below. Even if a spot had suddenly opened up at the village inn, it's too late to turn back now without succumbing to hypothermia along the way.</p><p>With scraped pink knuckles and pale blueish hands, she jostles the entryway only to find it unmoving. Locked.</p><p>Dogged perseverance turns to primal, fearful indignation. She seizes and shakes the gates like the bars of a cage, but it does not yield. The castle, from the outside, is still as death. </p><p>The symbol of the rose resting on Utena's frozen finger is immortalized on stained glass in one of the nearby windows. Its crest softly glows with the comforting promise of fire, as if mocking her. </p><p>Utena glares at the visage. As if summoned, shadows form and play in the window's light. One shape forms at the edge, lingering. </p><p>"Hey!" She cries out. <em>"HEY!"</em></p><p>No one answers. The figures slow, then seem to stand so they can enjoy the view. Step right up, distinguished guests, and watch the peasant girl freeze to death.</p><p>Every facet of existence stutters and stops. Before she registers what has happened and where she is, Utena drops face down into the filthy snow. Her vision blurs into a halo of white. Something beyond this realm, immeasurably vast, tugs at her muscles. Her consciousness feels like it's been submerged into the sea and below that, something darker is dragging her down into its depths like the pull of the undertow. Pain eclipses her terror until they both fade away, leaving nothing but an odd yet peaceful stillness. </p><p>
      <em>Pop.</em>
    </p><p>Far above her, there's a flash of lavender-white. </p><p>Her heart stutters. Utena wills her eyelids back open. She strains to find the light until her eyes rest on a glowing point in one of the castle's towers.</p><p>She sees a vision of violet hair and emerald eyes belonging to a woman in the highest window. There are candles and gold and they are all a heavenly halo around her dark face. Her gaze is pregnant with a thousand possible emotions, all wreathed in violent intent. Utena stands helpless at the threshold, in awe of her glory. </p><p>"Who are you?" She whispers.</p><p>The wind sings in answer. The dark woman crowned in empyrean light turns away from the window with a smile, as if this countenance is a precious secret. </p><p>Something reawakens inside of Utena. From that new wellspring of determination, she draws herself up on the gate's door to better see the woman. Suddenly, everything collapses beneath her. Like a wet lump of snow, the metal crumbles away under Utena's weight, leaving nothing but ash. </p><p>The castle doors fly open with a thunderous boom. </p><p>"What is this?!" Someone bellows.</p><p>As she tries to lift herself up, there is a faint aura of heat coming from the sound of the opened doors and the rhythmic crunching of snow. From Utena's view, face half submerged in muddy sleet, the image of an angry man gradually sharpens. A grumbling noise grows louder.</p><p>"If you're here as another suitor, you're too late! I don't care what she told you, we're not taking any more!" </p><p>The first thing she notices is that the man is wearing sandals in the snow. More precisely, they're Japanese sandals -- a far ways from their nation of origin. Upon a closer look, they're the finest geta she's ever seen in her life. The base is polished to a mirror shine and the wood grain swirls through the body in a seamless whorl that more closely resembles marble.</p><p>Then she looks up. Her appreciation for the craftsmanship immediately dies. </p><p>The man in the green haorihakama glares down at her like an insect, with his dark hair tied back in a ponytail and lightly greased with sweat. He crouches down to seize her left hand. As she struggles to rip her arm away, she hears him tisk.</p><p>"Ah great, <em>he's</em> involved..." He sighs. When he looks away, it's towards the tower where Utena saw the woman. Even the candles have disappeared. </p><p>The man in green glares down.</p><p>"His excellence Dios died long before you thought to come here." He says.</p><p>"It doesn't matter," Utena murmurs, "I have to repay this debt."</p><p> The man laughs. "To who, a <em>ghost?!"</em></p><p>Utena swallows back hot bile. It would be so easy to hop the fence then pick a lock, to throw herself at this man in the hopes that the surprise would give her an advantage over his size, to scream until the mountains came down on all of them -- anything. If only she had the strength. Instead, she grits her teeth and lays perfectly still. </p><p>
      <em>"Saionji."</em>
    </p><p>Another man's voice booms from the entryway. It's not a shout and could never be mistaken as such, but its commanding tone seems to overpower all other sounds. The man in green -- Saionji, as Utena gathers -- goes still and his grimace deepens over his features. The wind howls, growing louder and louder until Saionji finally cracks a smirk before clutching a necklace full of rings around his neck.</p><p>He throws a key at her in amused disgust. </p><p>"There's a river nearby the storage shed. Stay in there for the night. If you don't freeze to death, you know where to wash up."</p><p>Utena clutches the key. She can't move. When the man in green trudges off, she finds herself lifted up and cradled against the chest of another. </p><p>"I can carry you over, but you'll have to open the door on your own." The man in red murmurs. </p><p>There's a rumble in his chest -- quiet laughter.</p><p>"After all, it'd be rude for a gentleman to impose on another's efforts, even kindly."</p><p>Hesitantly, Utena glances over the man's shoulder, just to confirm that the castle gates did indeed dissolve in her hands. When she looks back, the structure stands complete and unchanged, as if nothing had happened. True to his word, the red man sets her down in front of the door to the shed. When she looks behind her, he is gone. The snow is perfectly level. An undisturbed ocean of white stretches out across the castle grounds, save for the trail paved by the man in green.</p><p>Lying at the threshold, thinking of the boorish sandaled man lazing and sneering in the shadow of the man who saved her life, a new sensation fills Utena's limbs with strength. </p><p>She reaches up with raw fingers to jam the key into the lock. At the click of the tumblers, the fire of her fury glimmers in satisfaction. </p><p>It warms her.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>✟</p>
</div>When Utena awakens, the sun is setting again. Despite over half a day's worth of sleep, her entire body feels like a tender bruise. Somehow, even her organs ache.<p>As she lets the fog of sleep dissipate, a realization dawns on her: the well-worn cot had been made, free of dust yet tucked in the corner of the shed before she had stumbled through while praising every god that could've existed that she could finally rest. Distantly, Utena wonders who else could have slept there if no one had expected her to turn up on their doorstep. Did they expect her? Her memories of the previous night fall flat. Nothing in them answers her questions.</p><p>She crawls from the cot to the floor and surveys the interior with a growling stomach. Dusty shelves full of tools and cleaning supplies line the grey wooden walls. Upon closer inspection, Utena discovers all sorts of oddities spilling out from between the essentials. She finds badminton rackets, gessoed canvases, cobweb covered knitting needles, ornate throwing knives, several yards of precut velvet, filthy beakers stuffed together in pristine flasks, antique muskets, boxing gloves, baking tins, some long forgotten attempts at hand-forged swords, and even several pairs of scuba goggles. From what Utena can recall, the castle is ninety-seven miles from the nearest shore.</p><p>She shoves an empty gym bag aside and two tins come clattering to the ground; salted peanuts and canned kidney beans. The peanut can pops open with a visibly salty puff of air. She tips the contents into her mouth. As she chews, the texture and taste that comes to mind is that of wet sand. </p><p>"Blech." </p><p>She lets the can drop, then grabs an empty water flask with a filter higher up on the shelves and a beach towel beside it that's been covered in dust. </p><p>The pristine blanket of snow across the terrain and the hoary clouds eclipsing the sky are both tinged by a gold-orange sun which strains to shine through its thick, hazy cover. Squirrels and other fauna dart through the brush, dropping acorns into the gurgling river. Tentatively, she dips the flask into the stream and takes a sip. Crisp water sinks into the dry nooks of her mouth and she's flooded with relief. </p><p>With renewed clarity, Utena steadies herself and with a careful look over her surroundings, she heads towards the trees to disrobe. Her stabilizer muscles tremble with the pain of exhaustion, making each slow step across the moss-slick river rocks into a test of focus. </p><p>When she gets to the other side of the river, she's shed her hooded cape coat and undone four of the buttons of her wool button down when there is an irritated groan behind her:</p><p>"You're still alive."</p><p>Utena drops into a defensive position. Saionji stands fifteen feet away from her in the long shadow of crooked oak. His hand rests on a leather scabbard with the strap strung around his hips. The snow around him remains undisturbed. </p><p>Utena inches towards him and squints. He is undoubtedly the same man from the night before, even though his hair is now clean and the previous green haori hakama has been swapped for a black and white number, one thick with masterfully handstitched embroidery. Still, something in his face and in his gaze is utterly alien to her, something that raises a shiver through her whole body. </p><p>His eyes, she decides, the eyes are all wrong. Though his body is admitted lean with muscles in all the right places and though his face seems to glow with an orgasmic flush on his cheeks reminiscent of a youthful drinking binge, there's something unnervingly dull in his gaze. It calls back memories of her short stint of time on the streets in between the deaths and the church. She remembers seeing a man so ravaged with laudanum that both of his eyes seemed to be engulfed by space itself before his soul left his body. She remembers the look on his face as he laid, in that moment, within the in-between of bliss and oblivion. Saionji's eyes, rimmed with the faintest sliver of icy blue at the edge, look drugged and nearly dead when removed from the larger context of his body. </p><p>His gaze drops down below her neck and there is clear surprise across his features. The two of them stare at each other awkwardly as the pretext of a standoff melts off like sleet in the sun. Utena's mind goes blank, yet her mouth still opens.</p><p>"...Do the people here... make drugs?" Utena stutters.</p><p>At first, Saionji tries to speak with the clear intent to broadcast condescending incredulity. His attempt is thwarted by his own laughter. </p><p>"Hff... You - you can't even summon the tact to wait with that question." Saionji chuckles, wiping a tear from his eye. "I think you're the stupidest thing we've had to put up with yet."</p><p>"Oh sure, you're the expert on -- " Utena's eye twitches. "Wait, 'thing?' Why would you treat a girl you've just met like this?!"</p><p>Saionji takes a step closer. Inexplicably, the smell of dark cherry wood wafts through the air, carrying with it a sense of urgent danger. </p><p>"You have a strange idea of what a girl is. Girls don't bind themselves or chop off their hair to bellow at a stranger's home." He sniffs, then sneers. "Certainly don't go around smelling like corpses."</p><p>Utena glares. "He's not a stranger."</p><p>"He wasn't, but I am! And as far as you're concerned, everyone else in our residence is too." </p><p>The air around them inexplicably drops a degree. </p><p>"Even her."</p><p>Saionji steps away and for a beat, the only sounds come from the uncaring wildlife around them. As he walks back to the residence, Utena stares at the high window in the castle. Where there was once a vision of heaven, there is only a solid black mass -- curtains, perhaps -- blocking the view inside. </p><p>"What is her name?"</p><p>Saionji stops, annoyed. "Eh?"</p><p>"That girl, the one with the crown. Who is she? What's her name?"</p><p>The branches scrape against each other, bringing a white noise to match the churning of the water below. Utena digs a heel into the soft ground.</p><p>"I just want to know." She says.</p><p>Saionji scowls at the rushing river. His hand hovers over the scabbard hanging from his hip.</p><p>"Answer me this: have you seen her before? Have you met her or heard of a woman in this castle?"</p><p>Utena considers the drawbacks of telling the truth and, having found none, she answers: "No."</p><p> He frowns, then chuckles and shakes his head.</p><p>"All this time you really were here for him, knowing he's dead." Saionji sighs. "You nearly killed yourself for a corpse... just who are you?"</p><p>Utena storms off.</p><p>"Oh, now you care." Utena huffs. "You haven't even asked for my n -- Hnh!"</p><p>As she speaks, she loses her balance on the rocks. A sharp line of stone slices into her forearm on the way down. She's only alerted to the sensation when she looks down into the riverbed and sees bright tendrils of red quickly blossom and unfurl from her left arm under the water. Her palms ache where the more jagged river rocks have made impact. She hisses as she tries to get up, slipping on the moss. </p><p>"Pathetic." Saionji sighs. "How are you still not dead?"</p><p>"Shut up!" Utena yells. "This wouldn't have happened if you'd just let me inside in the first place!"</p><p>"We don't accept strays into the resting grounds of Dios." </p><p>"He would have!"</p><p>Utena slips. Half of her body crashes into the stream. She grumbles, cursing under her breath, but finds her footing once again. Saionji exhales and from a pocket within his hakama, he shakes out a white cloth. He sits down on a tree stump and waits.</p><p>When Utena comes to her feet, she snatches her towel off the rock she set it upon and plops down onto a dry patch of dirt. She tussles her wet hair until it's as dry as it could get. Her mind suddenly goes blank. The river below churns against the cold, white and frothy with its force. She listens intently. </p><p>The sound summons a memory. The cold weighs on her shoulders, solid and immovable like a coffin against her back. In her mind, she hears a dozen horses' hooves galloping against hard soil. A storm of bats descending from the midnight sky with a furious beating of their wings. Blood rushes through veins, courses through flesh, and drips through severed skin. </p><p>Saionji snaps the cloth against the air. </p><p>"Are you waiting to bleed out, then? You would certainly make my life a lot easier." He says.</p><p>Utena glares at Saionji and turns to unsuccessfully tear a strip from the towel. Her face is red hot when she turns back to him with an outstretched arm.</p><p>"All I wanted was shelter, and you wouldn't even grant me that. I traveled for eight days by foot to make it here and nearly died, yet you still won't let me in."</p><p>"Why should I care about your poor planning? Hold still and turn your face to the side. I don't want you breathing on me." </p><p>Saionji grabs her wrist as she attempts to jerk it back. When her arm makes contact with the fabric, Utena reels back in sensory shock. The bandage is thick as wool, but more soft and smooth than handspun silk. Even Saionji's touch is feather light.</p><p>"I told you not to breathe on me." He says. </p><p>"There's nothing poor about it," She stutters, "I took the fast route through the mountain crest. That shaved off hours of time and I still ended up here."</p><p>"And again, that is your mistake. There were several shortcuts along the Marquis trade route and you scaled the mountain along the east side, which is at a much steeper incline than the west or north."</p><p>"The east route was the most direct path to the castle grounds, and it took less time --"</p><p>"It would have only taken less time if you had made the mistake of reading the landscape as one flat surface. At its natural incline, it's a lot longer. You added seven hours, at best." </p><p>Utena goes tense, then deflates. He is right; she had measured the distance using only a ruler and the scale of her map. At no point did elevation or topography ever cross her mind when planning her route. She bites her cheek with bright-red ears. </p><p>With a flourish, Saionji presents her own bandaged arm to her. </p><p>"There." He huffs with a twinge in his eyebrow and the beginnings of a smirk, "Unless you go fighting bears with that, it ought to stick until it's healed."</p><p> Utena glances down at his handiwork, then back up at him.</p><p>"And the castle?"</p><p>"What about it?"</p><p>"I'd like to go inside --"</p><p>He jerks forward, jaw twitching to respond.</p><p>"-- Please." She says quickly. "I won't be there forever."</p><p>He gazes down at his shoes, sullen. Without a word, he turns around and walks toward the castle. It isn't until he pauses to look over his shoulder and glare at her does Utena realize that she should follow him. As the sun sinks below the mountain range, casting a kaleidoscope of warm and vibrant hues across the earth, Utena raises her sore arms up to adjust her collar before trudging off behind Saionji.</p><p>Saionji stubbornly refuses to walk a straight path. For some reason, no matter the inconvenient terrain, he struts along inside of the shadows thrown by the castle and the trees as if the lightless patterns are the truer path. </p><p>"You have some nerve." He says.</p><p>Utena doesn't respond, verbally or through her expressions, but in her heart there's a burst of stubborn satisfaction. She cradles her aching, bandaged armed with a renewed sense of focus as she trudges forward.</p><p>"No one invited you, no one welcomed you," Saionji goes on, "And it's certain no one sought you out for company. And yet you have the nerve to impose yourself on me, specifically."</p><p>"Y'know what, when was the last time you left this castle?" Utena snaps. </p><p>"The last time I cared to do so." Saionji smiled. </p><p>Saionji lingers in front of her as she catches up and all sunlight disappears from the sky. As if by magic, the lanterns blink alight the moment she arrives. The lights inside quickly grow from behind the curtains, flooding the unseen interiors with an amber glow. Saionji clasps the handle firmly as his rings gleam warm in the darkness. The enormous front door creaks open with smothering notes of cherry wood and opium flooding out into the night.</p><p>"Come in."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>"i would love to go full marxist on that plot and have utena sucked into this kingdom of ostentaciously chivalric vampires who duel for the hand of the vampire queen anthy worshipped at the center of the cult and utena falls in love with her after seeking to understand her, but goes full-on simon belmont when she realizes that anthy is a non-vampire witch cursed with immortality who exists to be continually drained of her blood to keep the cult alive. lots of burning castles and just trashing shit to get to akio, who cursed her to begin with."</p><p>with abundant love to the ever-suffering empty movement server, especially yasha and vanna.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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